


Yessir

by AustenlySummers



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Bondage, D/s relationship, Dom/sub, Light BDSM, Literature, M/M, Romance, fan fiction
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-23
Updated: 2015-10-23
Packaged: 2018-04-27 15:58:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 755
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5054914
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AustenlySummers/pseuds/AustenlySummers
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Filling a Hetalia kink meme asking for a punishment scene between Germany and Italy, followed by lots of fluff.  Bonus for Germany in Nazi uniform and extra bonus for the riding crop.  Hope I did a decent job!  Enjoy!</p>
    </blockquote>





	Yessir

**Author's Note:**

> Filling a Hetalia kink meme asking for a punishment scene between Germany and Italy, followed by lots of fluff.  Bonus for Germany in Nazi uniform and extra bonus for the riding crop.  Hope I did a decent job!  Enjoy!

    Italy visibly shivered at the sound of Germany’s military boots making that heavy  clunk clunk clunk sound across the floorboards.  Though he couldn’t see him, he could hear the German from across the room: the rustle of fabric and gloved fingers drumming against wood, boots scuffing against the floor every time he took a step.  Italy wiggled a bit from his prone position naked on the bed.  Germany had opted for a standard reverse-prayer position, keeping Italy’s arms and wrists secured tightly behind his back by lengths of sturdy rope.  Italy’s face was pressed against the mattress, knees drawn up under him, ass in the air.  He was also blindfolded, leaving his other senses to pick up the slack of obscured vision.  

    Italy waited as he heard Germany’s boots cross the room once more.  Something smooth and leather-like traced the curve of his ass, and Germany’s low voice inquired, “Can you guess vhat this is, Feliciano?” 

    Italy loved the sound of his human name on Germany’s lips.  They had mutually concluded to use each other's human names when playing scenes.  Italy didn’t much have to worry about that.  Right now, Ludwig was Sir to him.  

    “A riding crop, Sir?” Italy guessed, recognizing the cool leather as Germany traced it across his skin.  Germany knew he loved the crop, often starting his punishments with the leather insturment.  

    “Very good,” Germany praised him, giving Italy’s ass a light smack.  It wasn’t hard enough to leave a mark, but hard enough to make it sting.  “And would you care to tell me vhy you’re receiving this punishment, Feliciano?”

    “Because I made a mess in your kitchen, Sir.”  

    “And…?” Germany prompted.  

    “And I stained your white countertop with tomato paste,” Italy added sheepishly.  Germany made a little noise of irritation and Italy quickly noted, “I’m very sorry, Sir, it won’t happen again.”  

    Fingers tugged at the blindfold covering Italy’s eyes.  It fell away and Germany stepped into view; Italy made a soft gasping sound.  Just when he thought Germany couldn’t get any sexier, he always got sexier.  He towered over the Italian in his full Nazi dress uniform, complete with those heavy polished boots and uniform cap pulled low over his slicked blond hair.  The riding crop in his gloved hands was an added bonus.  Italy couldn’t help but stare!  

    “Like vhat you see, Feliciano?” Germany inquired with a soft smirk, blue eyes twinkling down at the smaller Italian.  

    “Si~” Italy almost hummed, smiling up at him.  Germany caressed the Italian’s cheek with the riding crop.  

    “Tch, you’re the only man I know who smiles vhen he’s about to be punished,” Germany noted gruffly.

    Italy immediately dropped the grin and apologized, “I’m sorry, Sir.  I just can’t help but smile when you look so handsome~  I know I’ve been very bad and I deserve to be punished.  I am lucky to have a Master who will correct my behavior when I break the rules.  I am very grateful, Sir.”  

    “As you should be.”  Germany disappeared from Italy’s line of sight once more.  “Twenty strikes should be sufficient, don’t you think?  I’d like you to count them, Feli.”

    “Yessir,” Italy replied obediently.  Seconds later he sucked in his breath as Germany brought the crop down hard across his ass.  Despite the sharp gasp of pain, Italy counted off a breathy, “One.”

    He continued to count as Germany punished him; Germany alternated the location and severity of the smacks, hard enough to leave pretty red marks but not hard enough to cause welts.  At twenty strikes, Germany ceased the punishment.  He set the riding crop on the mattress beside Italy and gently helped the Italian sit up.  Italy winced a little as his tender backside settled onto the bedsheets.  He was teary eyed, but he smiled lovingly up at Germany.  

    “Thank you, Sir,” he stated quietly.  

    Germany brushed the hair off Italy’s face and praised him, “You took your punishment very well, Feliciano.”  

    “Anything to please you, Sir.” 

    Germany nodded and noted, “You vill be more careful in my kitchen, ja.”  It was more of a statement than a question.  

    “Yessir,” Italy replied with a firm nod.  

    “Good boy.”  Germany leaned down and pressed a soft kiss to Italy’s lips.  Italy happily leaned into it, letting his eyes flutter shut.  When they finally pulled away, Italy murmured against Germany’s lips, “I love you, Sir.”

Germany hesitated for a minute, as though the words surprised him, but he pulled the bound Italian into his arms and replied, “I love you too, Feliciano.”  


End file.
